We talk about a new plan of action. Santiago already has it in his head that I plan on returning to Hoover, again. He knows all about my old ideas that I hadn’t seen through. I was supposed to take North Hoover, and whip out the Italians. Chuey can get back in the back burner. Though I've done well grooming my little cuzzo to take the city, so I didn’t have to be in Hoover all because of Rocky. Instead of telling him I'm headed back to Harlem to start a new plan with Trek, I listen to his ideas. If I don’t plan on seeing Rockwell again because Junior is not my son, then we’ll cross that bridge. For now, it's back to The H.
Besides the Italians are within my eyesight and unlike Marcel letting them muthafuckas keep the north side of The H ain't gon’ happen. Time to really show them what’s up.
Chapter 22
BLU
Man, I crushed on Popeye all the way back to middle school. But he was in the same grade as Lorenzo and Rockwell, meaning he was one of the gang of niggas that was crushing on her while she stayed right up under Lorenzo–if my brah went to school. Throughout the years, I had told myself Popeye was a pretty boy. No matter how many hoes he pulled that shit wasn’t sexy.
Then I turned 19. I could tell that Lorenzo was getting ready to fuck over Marcel situation. He had just come back from Colombia and Rocky was in college. While this nigga was trying to be about Tio Santi’s business, I tried to get in. Being fam, you’d have thought the muthafucka would be all ears but my big brah didn’t want me anywhere near the coke or no guns. So I thought of something better. I hit up this chocolate brown, with dimples simple nigga, aka Popeye. Shit, Lorenzo was an entrepreneur. I was too. So, I took my ass straight over to Lorenzo’s homeboy house.
I had on a mini skirt that tugged at my toned thighs and ass. Soon as Popeye opened the door to his granny’s crib, this nigga ate me up with his eyes while licking his lips. Then his black ass got suspicious because I never wore skirts. “Ma, you looking fine as fuck while throwing them evil ass vibes. Blu how may I help you?”
The way he offered to help was too damn smooth, too damn annoying I rolled my eyes and snapped, “The fuck you mean evil ass vibes?”
“Everybody know you’re evil, Blu. That’s why ain’t nobody try to holler at you in school.”
“Don’t worry about all that,” I stepped inside, hating on my brah for making me stoop to this level. Since Popeye doesn’t make a move, I added, “We need to talk.” I shooed him away like he better lead me toward his bedroom. Popeye gave me this cocky grin, like he could handle my bossy ass.
He had a tiny bedroom with a twin-sized bed, the room was clean except for some swisher sweets and weed stems and seeds scattered on the dresser.
This nigga still looked at me with a question in his eyes. Yeah I know he was confused. I ain't never gave him no play. Truthfully, I can't stand a pretty nigga. Though Popeye can back it up when need be, I wasn’t feeling him like the thousands of other chicks.
“Thought you was a lesbian or something...” He said, looking at me as I got comfortable on his bed.
“Something like that,” I mumbled pulling off my top. My perfectly melon breast called out to him. Nipples rock hard. It's so crazy how the body reacts even when my mind, my heart didn't feel a damn thing.
He closed the door, eyes on me. He licked his lips slowly. Something tells me that he wanted to take his time over every inch of my body, when I want this shit to be as quick as a snap of the finger. Get his rocks off real quick so then we can be about that rock cocaine.
He pulled his shirt over his head. Lawd have mercy, every muscle in his body was well developed, with so much definition. While helping me get out of my skirt, Popeye tongued me down. My mouth moaned even though I willed it not to. My pussy tingled even though it shouldn't. Popeye shouldn't smell so good and look so damn fine. Fucking R&B singer reject look-a-like.
Finally, I pulled my lips away from his. This was like death to me. Ain't a lezbo, but I ain't feeling this nigga. No lie.
“Fuck me quickly Popeye,” I commanded.
He paid me no attention and grabbed one of my breast, he sucks the rosebud taking my breath away and making my legs weak. I leaned back against the bed, still tryna be hard and hold my ground. Let this simp ass nigga know I'm boss. But his palm went between my breast, to my chest. He felt my heart beat then slowly applied pressure until I layed back on his bed. My eyes narrowed, fuck this nigga for that smooth move.
“Stop being a pussy, Popeye. Gimme the dick,” I snapped, leaning up on my elbows. This was supposed to be simple. We should already be fucking and I should already be telling dude that Lorenzo said that I'm in. Because my brah didn't really reply that I couldn't be part of his new crew for Santiago.
Then Popeye unbuckled his pants and his dick popped out.
My bottom lip dropped...
First dude slipped every single long inch of his dick inside of me, oh so slowly. He whispered in my ear how wet I was. For him!
Fuck that my mind was on one day being a cartel leader, true story.
Then he gripped my thighs and his hips slowly twirled around like a bitch, but that shit, man... took me to a new height as he searched incessantly for my g spot. This lame nigga found it! I'd been quiet as fuck till he found it. Soon as he did... Now who’s the bitch? I was moaning, cussing and feeling like an idiot because his granny might hear us down the hall. Then his hands slid up and down my thighs and he went slowly.
“Fuck me, Popeye,” I snapped. He smiled at me as I lay spread eagle before him on the bed, then he reached down to kiss my lips, but I turned my head like fuck you dude. No matter how young I was, barely 18 I knew the game he was playing.
Again, he slid out some, grinning while telling me how wet I got his dick. I was tempted to lean on my elbows and take a look. Next, he loved my goody box long and slow, making me feel every emotion under the sun. Primarily anger. So I'm tempted to tell him to go deeper, make dude feel like he got a little dick but he was already digging out my guts. Can't tell him to cum already because I got to make my request afterward. So, I do the next best thing since he wants me to cum first. I whispered the wrong nigga’s name just because.
He continued to dip in and out these honey walls. Popeye bit his lip and said, “Best pussy I’ve ever had. Tight, sweet and gooey…”
I dug my nails into his biceps and cussed his ass out. Then this nigga had me cumming long and hard.
A while later, I just couldn’t move. My body felt so good next to the lame. So I finally made my request, letting Popeye know the next time there was a shipment that I was to go with him.
“That's what's up,” he had said as if it was as simple as just asking.
Chapter 23
ROCKWELL
A few days later, cut up jeans cling to my hips and ass. An big, ugly Christmas sweater dress hangs off one of my shoulders as I clean out one of the guest rooms. Lemme see how Raphael reacts to me moving out of our bedroom, I think, as I pull the dusty, clean sheets off the king sized bed. When I damn near jump out of my skin. I hold in the scream and run to Lorenzo as he stands in the shadows of the large bedroom. I stop short of hugging him, half because this nigga hasn’t answered my calls, the other because I haven’t stayed flyy. “Why are you in my house? How did you get in?”
“You called. I'm here,” this nigga says like he’s boss.
“Junior has been crying. You missed his game,” I snap. This crap has me on pause. These are the things I expected to argue about with Lorenzo, if he knew he was my kid’s father. Why am I doing this to myself? I need to really go up to that DNA lab and talk to somebody who could use a few bucks. Somebody is willing to fudge these papers. This shit has my heart hurt tho. How can I fuck Lorenzo over even more than I have by keeping him from his child? I keep telling myself that I’m doing this for Junior. And Lorenzo hasn’t told me what latest bullshit he has been into.
“Like I said, Lorenzo, you ain’t Raphael Junior’s dad so don’t make promises and shit.” I try to be hard. He looks so
good, that I get angry. Eyes narrow, I take in his black jeans and button up. The diamonds in his ears are blinding even in the dark.
“Rocky quit all the bullshit. I know you can get sneaky when you feel I ain’t treated you right in the past. I’m that little nigga dad. I’ma give you the chance to get ya act right tho. In the meantime, lil’ mama, my bad about missing the game. I had to go outta town.”
“Um hmmm. Well, go back where you came from then.” I bite my lip while inhaling spiced cologne that makes me delirious.
“Rockwell, don’t front like you didn’t want me to come through. I’ma keep my word to Junior, but I had … important shit to do tho’.” He tries to move my arms and hug me. “Looks like you ain't seen a dick since I left. So, I came to work those kinks out.”
“Not in my husband’s house,” I reply, glaring at the cocky smile on his face.
“Won't stay long. You can go back and take care of ya husband then. Massage his shoulders. Change his bandages.” He laughs.
I gasp. “His bandages? You know! You did this. You jacked Raphael and had him beat.”
“Nah, not me.”
“Yes,” I shake my head. “Dude, you ain’t never been a liar. You’re sneaky as fuck, but you never lied to me before. Be a man, Renz. Tell the truth.”
“Like I said. Ain’t touched the mark. While the lame was getting his face smashed I was smashing his wife on a tropical island.” Lorenzo winks, his hands moving beneath my ugly sweater, and his rough fingers rub against my soft skin. “While that trick got fucked up, I was beating the pussy till his wife tapped out. Making her scream out my name,” Lorenzo tells me as one of his hands undo my bra and his other thumb caresses my lips. “Had his wife’s mouth making miracles.”
“Don't touch me,” I whimper, but his thumb dips into my mouth. My pussy is wetter than ever, contrary to the crazy shit running through my mind about fucking under the same roof as my husband!
Lorenzo bends down, his mouth goes over mine before my brain can plead him not to again. Tonguing me down, he hefts me up and shoves me against the wall. And damn, I feel it all as my legs wrap around his waist.
“Not here.” I finally speak as he kisses down my neck.
“Yup, here! Raphael is downstairs watching the game.”
He’s already pulling my breast from my bra. It takes all of me to plead, “Bae please not here. Let’s go. I’ll get us a nice hotel…”
Lorenzo snatches off my sweater. “Right-muthafucking-here, ma!”
My pleading is a melody as he drops to his knees, yanks down my pants and starts to kiss my clit.
This evil muthafucka doesn’t care about anything but getting it. Lorenzo’s finger dips inside of my honey. “Super wet, Rocky, I’ma fuck you real soon. Don’t matter how you feel about it.”
I can’t breathe, my head falls back against the wall, as he hoists me over his shoulders, and chops me down. When his mouth pulls away from me, I almost scream. Now he can’t stop!
But he licks his fingers. “You’re right, lil’ mama. Not here.”
“Yes!” I damn near spazz out.
“Nah, Rocky, you was right.” He starts to stand, then adds, “Where’s your bedroom.”
My lips curve upwards as I pull up my Like I said before, whatever Lorenzo wants, he got. I’m only in panties and bra as we sneak out and down the marble hallway. The house is so big I hear echoes from downstairs. Soon as we get to my bedroom, I shut the double doors. Lock us in, and then the curtains drown out all the sunlight.
With a sly grin, I beckon Lorenzo to my bed. He stands at the edge and drops his pants. Lord, have mercy. Every time I see Lorenzo’s body, he can get it. Even in my marital bed. I prop up me and Raphael’s pillows and lay back. My greedy ass only wants one thing. Ripped muscles; tats all over. Only thing missing is my name across his heart.
Lorenzo climbs on top of me, kissing me with my own sweetness then he slides in. My pussy makes room for his dick and it’s loving each and every inch of him.
Lorenzo pushes my legs up and out to the east and the west coast, beating my desire down. He alternates from fucking me like the nigga I know him for and making love to me like the friend I’ve loved since age eleven. As his muscular chest presses against my rock hard nipples, Lorenzo tongues me down. He has one hand gripping the headboard, while plunging deep inside this ocean of love.
I wait to hear those words, those muthafuckin' words that I had first waited so long for. Shit, I had begged for them even back then. Now, with lying about Junior, I know I won’t ever hear them again…
Tears stream down my cheeks, as his dick shows me love.
“Please open up...” Bonita whispers.
My heart nearly explodes as I come to my man. But the banging on the door is getting louder. I fall into Lorenzo’s chest, sniffling more happy tears. He smiles and puts his finger over his lips, but Bonita keeps begging.
“Get in the closet,” I tell him.
“But this mattress feels so good.” Lorenzo’s eyes close.
“Nigga, move,” I whisper. I shake his shoulder until he gets up. There’s nothing in the world more beautiful than a strong muscular man with tattoos all over his arms and legs. For a second I’m lost with just a look until Bonita keeps banging. Lorenzo grabs his clothes, his burner and heads for the closet.”
“Yes Bonita.” I crack the door and pretend to yawn.
“That asshole keeps asking for you. Get dressed and if he asks you just got out the shower.” She looks just past me and smiles. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, but she waves me off. “Honey, I hate your husband with every inch of my heart. Your secret is safe with me.”
I close the door and lean against the wall. Then something tells me to peep out the curtains. Ganza’s men are here. Two Caddys are right out front. Might just be Vido and Tony but... I rush to the closet, hurry to put on a pair of jeans and say, “Bae, my husband’s family and maybe even some of the Ganza’s are here. Please stay quiet.” I kiss his lips.
But Lorenzo snatches me back. “You trust that bitch?”
“Yeah.”
He bites his lip. I know he’s angry and thinking of how to keep me from going down there.
“I gotta go down there. Please don't make a noise.” I push down his hand as he's already readying his Glock. “I don't know how many are here. Just don't leave this spot, okay? I love you.”
RAPHAEL
“Rockwell. Rockwell!” I turn down my 90-inch HDTV and call her again. My phone is on the coffee table and I don't feel like moving so I shout again.
“Aye, she's ughhhh… ugh in the shower,” Bonita says running into the room. “What can I get you, Mr. Bell?”
I huff. Can't do anything but get my pipe cleaned these days and this ugly old lady won't be doing it.
“Mr. Bell, please...”
“Go tell Rockwell to get out of the shower. I need her,” I snap.
“But–”
“Maybe I need you to hire me a new maid too.”
“Fat chance,” she says under her breath in Spanish while walking away. I'd have fired the bitch yesterday, but Rockwell loves her. She's back seconds later telling me Rockwell is still in the shower.
“I'm sure she is.” I glare at her.
Bonita smiles for the first time in our convo exchanges and heads to the door. Then returns with Uncle Vido and Uncle Tony. They step into the den and I motion Bonita to close the door behind her.
“Look at that ugly mug,” Vido shakes his head.
“Somebody really dug into you!” Tony laughs.
“What the fuck you laughing for, stupid? Why is my brother so mother fucking dumb.” Vido smacks the back of Tony’s head, and they take a seat.
“What do ya mean somebody dug into me? Didn't your people fuck with me? Sal paid off my debt to those muthafuckas in Vegas, just because he likes to fuck my ma! When I threatened to tell dad, my debts were miraculously gone. Just so Sal could think he owns me! Now my Bentley is fucked over. That was a bi
rthday present, you know.”
“Yeah, we know. If it wasn't for Rockwell’s shop or ya daddy’s jewelry store, you wouldn't be worth shit.” Tony sniffs. “And no we don't got ya car. Tamms would be all in our asses. No matter if we working for Salvatore Ganza or not ya ma would be fuckin’ pissed. Does that even make sense to you, Sal putting a hit on you, if he just paid your books?”
“Then who the fuck stole it. Why am I sitting here popping Vicodin and sneaking coke because my wife doesn’t approve?” My heart beats wildly. “Vido, Tony, I said who the fuck beat me, stole my Bentley, and left me for dead?”
They look at each other and shrug. I chuckle and shrug it off. “This is a fuckin’ joke still, guys? C'mon Sal didn't order this hit? He fuckin’ hates me. If it weren’t for my ma I’d be dead, right? So you and the Ganza’s beat me to within an inch of my life because Sal and Tamms are good friends.”
“No.” Vido rubs the back of his head. “You'd be dead if Sal wanted you to pay up on all the dough you owe him. Not to mention the coke. He loves Tamms but my sister, eh… she may not have that much pull when money is involved, unless she was paying ya debt. Tamms bought the Bentley. You know what that means? Sal bought the Bentley for her, cus ya daddy been saying she spends too much money these days. So this means Sal having you beat and taking the car ain’t nothing but a waste of time.”
I simper. I'm supposed to be in the clear. A man of no debt. Mom was pissed when I didn't pass med school during the first round. She threatened that my trust fund would go to charity. She was damn near disowning me until I met Rockwell. She liked the fact that Rockwell Townsend was a woman with a plan. Rocky was going to be a fucking fashion designer. That shit pisses me off that we came home from Italy before she could come through on a deal. Anyway, I married Rockwell so quickly soon as she found out we were expecting. I wasn’t going to tell Rocky I lived off my parents and that they were threatening to disown me. We’d only been together for a month. You’d think I’d run like hell when she admitted to being pregnant. Heck no, I was elated. Now, add a baby boy to the mix. That was heaven for me. Or more like this twenty thousand square foot mansion that Mom made Dad buy. If there is one thing I know about Italian women, my mom included, they’re suckers for having little boys in the family. Now I’m back to square one because Mom knows I’m back on the blow–she had looked at the medical records when I was in the hospital and saw toxicology positive for cocaine. Now she’s refusing to loan me any more money.
Loving a Colombian Cartel Thug Page 11
